


Remember My Name

by lalazee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Comedy, M/M, OtaYuri Week 2017, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: Highschool Hockey AU in which Otabek is team captain and Yuri will show all you bastards that he's not too small to kick some meathead ass on the ice.Written for Otayuri Week, Day 1: First Time/Confessions.





	

_Too short. Too small. Too skinny. Come back when you’ve grown a foot, kid._

When it came to being picked for sports, Yuri had heard it all.

Which, while increasingly aggravating, only drove Yuri to further strive for victory. And he was almost always victorious.

Except when it came to the one sport he really wanted. Freshman and sophomore year, he could maybe understand why the Senior year team captain had brushed him off without even giving him a chance to show off his talents.

By all appearances, Yuri Plisetsky was far from built for ice hockey.

But it was Junior year, and there was a new captain now. This Senior guy, Otabek Altin.

Yuri and him shared the same gym class. Not that they ever made any contact with each other, but he was there – Otabek was.

From what Yuri could tell, the guy rarely seemed to care what people thought of him. He didn’t let some freak flag fly or anything. He was just… Cool. With just about everyone. He didn’t seem to talk much, but his friends were always hanging off his shoulders like he was a good listener or something.

But what did Yuri know? All that mattered to him was that Otabek seemed more grounded than most of the douchey bros of this school. Maybe he’d see something in Yuri that others refused to acknowledge.

Well, that’s what he’d _hoped_.

Those dreams were quickly quashed when, days later, Otabek passed Yuri in line at tryouts, gave him one dismissive glance and simply said, “I don’t think so.”

Yuri felt a fire flare in his belly as he clenched his fists at his sides.

“Oiy, Captain! How about a bet?”

Otabek paused at the next student, his eyebrows raised as he slid a glance down at Yuri.

“Excuse me?”

“A bet.” Yuri’s chin jutted forward in defiance, his eyes narrowed and icy. “Unless you’re scared of lil’ old me or something.”

“I can’t imagine I have much to be scared of from you,” Otabek said mildly, turning his attention again to the next guy.

“Bitch, I’m challenging you here!”

Yuri yanked Otabek by the shoulder, spun him so they’d face off – much to the _ooo_ ’s and _aah_ ’s and laughter of their classmates. Yuri didn’t care if he had to go to his tiptoes as his hand crunched into the fabric of Otabek’s hockey jersey.

“You, me, this rink. If I score one goal against you, you let me on the team. If I don’t then –”

Otabek met Yuri’s eyes with his own dark, unreadable ones. Delicately, he removed Yuri’s fist from his collar.

“If you don’t, I have something you’ll need to do in return.”

“ _Fine_.”

After all, Yuri did know he could win. No, he didn’t have the brawn these guys did. No, he didn’t look like these meatheads. But he had something else on his side. Speed, smarts, and skill.

He was good. Better than good. And damn if he wouldn’t take this chance to prove it.

“Later,” Otabek said.

“ _What_?”

“After. I can’t waste my time with this when I have a job to finish. If you’re prepared to wait, then wait.”

Yuri gritted his teeth and bit back a curse.

_This fuckin’ guy._

To think Yuri admired him, even a little bit.

“Fine.” Yuri folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

So, he waited. And stewed and steamed.

He didn’t mess with his phone or leave the rink bleachers. Yuri glued himself to one seat and watched tryouts. Figured how he could beat each and every individual guy.

Maybe he’d never get taller. Maybe he would. But right now, he had talent aplenty and he _knew_ he could use it.

Otabek Altin would not be the one to stop him.

Speaking of, the asshole barely spared him a glance over the last two hours. When he did, however, Yuri made sure to put on his deepest glare and most vicious expression.

At one point, he could have sworn Otabek nearly smiled at him.

He was fucking infuriating! Fucking Seniors.

When those long hours had finally passed, Yuri’s adrenaline was through the roof. He might have even been sweating.

As the students exited the rink and made for the locker rooms, Yuri stood and waited, wiping his clammy hands on his thighs.

Otabek followed the parade of sweaty dudes. His hair was a little mussed but otherwise he was pristine.

“You waited,” he said.

“What else would I do?” Yuri put his hands on his hips and cocked his head. “When we gonna do this? Let’s go. I’m ready to kick your ass.”

“I look forward to watching you try… Yuri, was it?”

Yuri felt his face go red. Of course Otabek never knew he existed. Why would he? Meathead, just like the rest of them.

“You forget my name a few minutes from now.”

Otabek raised a brow and gestured to the rink.

“Come on then. You have half an hour.”

“I won’t need that much,” Yuri said, grinning.

“Good,” Otabek said with a small nod, considering Yuri from head to toe. “Skate up.”

Twenty-six minutes in. Otabek three, Yuri _zero_.

Otabek was faster than Yuri had expected.

But then, so was Yuri. He could see that Otabek knew it.

There were almost no body-slams. Yuri was better than that. Every time his lightning footwork passed Otabek up, there was a widening of eyes and a flicker of surprise before his opponent snapped back into gear.

There was also the difference in Otabek’s demeanor over the course of the competition. He went from doing the bare minimum in order to block Yuri’s attacks, to intense speed and offense as well as defense.

Otabek cared now. He’d definitely be remembering Yuri’s name.

Otabek attacked, Yuri dodged with sweat dripping into his smile. Yuri took control of the puck, and Otabek crashed into him like a freight train.

This kept happening. Apparently the meathead could logic out Yuri’s swift maneuvers, after all.

Yuri needed a different plan.

He had possession of the puck now. His heart was a hammer against his ribs, his hands clenched bloodless on his stick.

Same introduction, he thought quickly as he raced towards Otabek at high speed. He knew Otabek would be expecting it now. Yuri would always come dangerously close, close enough for their eyes to meet, then swerve in the final second before impact and go for goal.

It surprised Otabek the first few times, but now he’d caught on. He would already be prepared for the side-step with a steal or a shoulder slam.

So Yuri gritted his teeth and, in the final second, launched himself full force into Otabek.

Distantly, Yuri heard the breath knock right out of Otabek as Yuri drove through and around him. This was undoubtedly his last chance.

The goal was open. Yuri rushed.

He saw nothing, felt nothing, but the victory as he closed in, poised to score.

Otabek Altin would remember his fucking name.

And just like that, Yuri’s lungs rattled with shock and pain as the air forcibly burst from them. At top speed, Otabek had crashed into him from his blind side. They both went flying into the plexiglass, hockey sticks pitching in opposite directions as they tumbled in tandem to the merciless ice.

Yuri ended up on the bottom, his back and spine suffering. Otabek landed on top of him with an _ooph_.

For half a minute, they just laid there, both groaning and chests heaving with exertion. Yuri’s _everything_ hurt.

“Time’s up,” Otabek said from inside his helmet.

Yuri’s heart sank.

“Get the fuck off me.”

Otabek did.

They both slowly, gingerly removed their helmets. Rolled their heads to the side and stared at each other.

Otabek’s cheeks were pink, his eyes bright, edging on amber with the apparent excitement of victory.

Yuri scowled.

“You win.”

“You owe me something.”

Neither of them moved. Yuri sighed and looked to the high ceiling of the auditorium.

“What, then? Do your homework? Write a paper for you? I’m not very sm–”

“Go out with me,” Otabek said quietly, from beside him.

Yuri blinked owlishly at the ceiling. Slowly, his expression neutral, he turned his head to meet Otabek’s gaze.

“Um. What?”

Otabek’s eyes were suddenly unnervingly warm.

“Be my boyfriend.”

Now Yuri was certain he’d received some kind of serious brain trauma from that slam.

“I – you don’t even _know_ me.”

“I had a feeling you didn’t remember me.”

“ _What_ – sorry, but _what_? Of course I fucking know you. We’re in the same gym class.”

“I’ve known you longer than that. I was a freshman here, thirteen. You were eleven and just about as bratty as you are now. We were in the same ballet class. I was taking it for football. Then I could hockey. But first, I knew you.”

Yuri could only stare like an absolute idiot.

Otabek’s smile was small, but his eyes held more.

“If you think I could ever forget someone so obnoxiously loud and passionate about his sport, you’d be wrong.”

Incensed, Yuri sat up with a wince, and shot Otabek a glare as he also moved to sit.

“So why did you pretend not to know me?”

“I simply wanted to see if you knew me back.”

Yuri gawked at Otabek. The guy _definitely_ had a screw loose somewhere.

“You’re weird as fuck, you know that? Here I was thinking you were some normal du–”

“So, are you my boyfriend or not?”

Yuri considered Otabek’s face. Considered the way his own eyes had always followed Otabek’s form through the gym. Across the running track, the basketball court, the baseball diamond. Maybe he’d never _just_ admired him.

“Shit,” Yuri said, shrugging. “I guess I fucking am.”

This time, Otabek smiled. Really smiled. It was kinda sorta blinding and a little bit intimidating.  No one’s smile should be that devastating.

He stood, holding out his hand for Yuri to take.

After a second of suspicious staring, Yuri took the hand and allowed himself to be helped up.

“For the record,” Otabek said, not releasing Yuri’s hand and using it to pull and slide him in close. “You took my breath away the moment you slammed into me like you wanted to murder me. Literally. Win or lose, you were already on the team.”

Yuri released a shaky breath as he smiled with unabashed brightness. Quickly, his expression turned to a smirk as he eyed Otabek with mischief.

“Hey, Captain. How about a bet?”

Otabek’s brows popped upwards. The corner of his lips twitched.

“Sure.”

Yuri brought his arms up, his fingers linking at the shaved nape of Otabek’s neck.

“I promise I’ll really take your breath away this time.”

He closed his eyes and leaned in.


End file.
